


Pie Was Involved

by Lunargypsy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pie, Slash, fix it fix, what Battle?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:32:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunargypsy/pseuds/Lunargypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin’s face took on a pained yet touched expression and his mouth parted to speak but Bilbo held up a hand. <br/>“Listen, and listen well. I don’t know who or what you are, be you wraith or ghoul or foul beast from Mordor itself, but my name is Bilbo Baggins, Thief in the Dark, Barrel Rider, Burglar and the Fourteenth Member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. I have killed and will kill again lest you leave now and never, ever come back. because whatever you are, you are playing with a  very, very dangerous matter and I will not stand for it. So this is your one chance. Run.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

“The eagles...” Bilbo gasped out and closed his eyes, shaking in pain. No, no Thorin couldn’t be..no..no! He leapt up, panicked and scared and took off running as fast as he could, refusing to look back. He pushed past Thranduil and his son, past everyone who stood in his way and he ran, oh how he ran and he didn’t stop. He gasped for air, stumbling but refusing to stop until he was bowled over. It was an eagle. It cawed curiously at him.   
“Please I beg of you!” Bilbo choked, tears on his face. “Will you take me to the Shire?” The eagle cocked it’s head and nodded, bending down and Bilbo scrambled onto it’s back. It took off, and Bilbo promptly discovered the difference between being carried by an eagle and being carried by an eagle, the latter being much more enjoyable. The initial shock of flying was breathtaking and it momentarily relieved Bilbo of his grief. The grief of Fili and Thorin and what he thought might have been Kili’s motionless form. He let his eyes close and the tears flowed. He sobbed and sobbed all the way over Mirkwood until he found himself asleep.   
He awoke in warmth and for a blissful moment thought it was all some terrible dream. He stirred and was suddenly blinded by light. He blinked dazedly and peered around the snow covered prairie he was sitting in. He turned and saw a giant eagle, eyes searching him. Then it all came crashing back into him with the force of one of Dwalin’s hammers. He covered his face and shook with suppressed tears. There was no point in anger or revenge, Azog was dead and gone. Thranduil wasn’t to blame, no one was left to blame, only the emptiness.   
“Why the tears, little one?” said a soft voice. Bilbo looked up at the eagle.   
“You...speak Westron,” he said softly, voice choked.   
“We are wise and speak many languages,” the eagle said. “But the tears. I felt them upon my back as we flew, not ceasing, even in sleep. Why do you cry?”   
“I...the dwarves back there are...” Bilbo couldn’t say anything.   
“Yes, I saw the king and princes,” the eagle said quietly. “Are they dead? I could not tell.” Bilbo nodded weakly, not trusting his voice. “They must have been dear to you, to cause such tears. Who was he?”  
“He was my...he was my...” Bilbo shook and started to cry again, eyes pressed into his knees and shook. Something big and firm curled around him and Bilbo found himself cradled in the neck of an eagle, the beak pressed against his knees.   
“We call them-” the eagle let out a cooing like something sweet as Bilbo’s tears stopped. “I suppose you might call them...nest-mates? Or closest-kin?”  
“Yes,” Bilbo said softly. “That is what they were to me. My closest kin.” The eagle nudged him.   
“Do you still wish to return to the shire?” He nodded and the Eagle rose up. “The flight will be many days, but I can fly most directly, if you can stand it.”   
“I can,” Bilbo said determinedly as he climbed on it’s back. He didn’t want to be away from home any longer than he had to. “What should I call you?” he asked and the eagle turned it’s head.   
“Eilonwy,” and she took off into the sky.   
-  
Ten cold and high days later Eilonwy settled amongst trees on the very edge of the shire. Bilbo slid down gracefully, used to mounting and dismounting now.   
“Thank you, Eilonwy,” he said and hugged her neck. A beak came to rest on his back, in a strange embrace from the bird.   
“It was a delight, Bilbo Braveheart.”  
“Baggins, actually,” Bilbo said awkwardly.   
“I call you Braveheart for you are, if nothing else, that,” Eilonwy said. She stilled and tucked her head under her wing. She pulled a small golden feather from her breast and set it upon Bilbo’s curls. “If ever you are in need of me, Bilbo Braveheart, blow this into the winds at dawn, and I will come for you, wherever you are. Farewell,” she said and nudged Bilbo. The hobbit smiled and waved as the eagle soared away into the sky. He closed his eyes and waited for the familiar smells and sounds of the Shire to envelop him. Except they didn’t. Everything was strange and unfamiliar and he felt out of place and out of sorts and he didn’t like at all. He felt the ghost of a voice whisper in his ear and he shook with fear when he recognized it.   
“Nononononono! Leave me alone!” he wailed into the winter air and took off through the snow for Bag End. He charged past dozens of smials and into his home, ignoring the sign on the gate. He burst in and slammed the door locking it and collapsing on the floor. He held very still, eyes closed and let the smells of home curl through him. The smial was cold and empty. “Well I can fix that.” he mumbled and stood. He froze. His mother’s glory box. Mud was still stuck to the edge. And there resting on the floor was a pocket handkerchief. He choked and fell to his knees, tears mixing with the mud, still trawling the carpet.


	2. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have passed, and tragedy strikes the shire in the form of a double funeral, leaving a boy with ebony curls to his lonely uncle.

Bilbo sat in the garden watching as Frodo tried to talk little Samwise Gamgee out to the woods across the water. Sam, for all his shyness, would follow Frodo to Yavanna knew where, and jogged down the lane after Frodo.   
“BACK BY NIGHTFALL!” Bilbo called and Frodo waved.   
“Just like his uncle,” Hamfast said beaming and Bilbo gave him a chastising look.   
“Come now, Hamfast, it was a phase. I went off, went wild and now I’m back.”  
“Right you are Mister Baggins. Good morning.” And Hamfast returned to his work. Bilbo went inside and closed the door, carefully stepping over the threshold and walking into the sitting room and settling on his armchair. Frodo had left his toys scattered across the floor again, bless him, and there were cookie crumbs on the coffee table. Bilbo smiled at how he once would have tutted at it and recalled an occasion when he had fussed over doilies and crockery. A weak sob escaped Bilbo and he covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. That simply wouldn’t do...there was a knock at the door. Bilbo stood, straightened his waistcoat and answered the door with a smile, which turned false when he saw it was Lobelia.   
“Ah cousin,” he said not inviting her in, but for once Lobelia looked truly scared and concerned.   
“Bilbo, I beg your help,” she said, eyes wild. Bilbo nodded and opened the door. She scuttled in, wringing her hands. She had clearly come straight from home, as she had neither her usual bonnet, coat or many skirts. She was dressed simply and delicately, as if she hadn’t planned on going out today, yet here she was.   
“What is it Lobelia?” Bilbo said gently.   
“I was inside when I saw some huge, hulking beast on the edge of the wood. It was this massive furry thing. I thought it a wolf, but it was three times as large and-oh Bilbo I know I teased you awfully for turning Took and taking off, but please, just help me,” she begged. Bilbo nodded at once.   
“Lobelia wait right here, I’ll be back in a moment,” and he disappeared into his room. He opened his trunk, shoving aside books and scrolls and pulled out a wrapped package. He tugged it open and pulled on the mithril shirt and drew Sting from the bottom of the trunk, buckling it on. He jogged back out to Lobelia who looked at him, something on the tip of her tongue, when she swallowed it down. “Show me,” Bilbo said firmly and Lobelia took off, running helter skelter with Bilbo on her heels.   
“There,” she said standing on the bridge. He saw a shadowy shape moving in the woods, a ways off and nodded.   
“Lobelia, go home, lock the doors and tell anyone who will listen there’s a great bear in the forest, anyting but the truth.”  
“Which is?” Lobelia asked in confusion. Bilbo was already running to the woods.   
“Much worse!” he called and kept going. Bilbo thought it a warg, a very specific warg and he let his anger fuel his adrenaline and charged into the forests of his home, searching for white fur and blue eyes to no avail. He couldn’t even pick up the tracks and shouted in anger that his prey escaped. He swung his sword and it sliced through the top of a mulberry bush. He sighed and sheathed his old sword and headed to the Sackville-Baggins place. He knocked and Lobelia opened it nervously.   
“Bilbo?” she mumbled, sincerity in her eyes.   
“Whatever it is it’s gone. Just keep out of the Wood for now, yes?” he said gently. She nodded fervently and Bilbo smiled gently. “Be seeing you then, cousin.” Lobelia nodded a tad on the snide side and Bilbo walked back to Bag End. Frodo wandered in around sunset with a lazy smile and blueberry stains on his face.   
“Had fun?” Bilbo teased as he wiped at it.   
“Yes, Unc’,” he said.   
“Frodo,” Bilbo said after a moment. “Will you promise me to stay out of the wood for a few days? Just until Samwise birthday.” Frodo whined, but agreed all the same. “Thank you my lad. Now go wash up and we’ll have some fish for dinner, yes?” Frodo skipped off cheerily. Bilbo smiled and went to prepare the dinner.   
-  
“Not the bones,” Bilbo reprimanded as Frodo held one up.   
“But it’s so small...” Frodo mumbled.   
“Exactly why you shouldn’t eat it. Here, have some lemon,” Bilbo said holding the fruit over the fish and squeezed when suddenly the bell rang. The two Baggins froze, shared a look and they made their way to the door. Bilbo had his dinner knife tucked up his sleeve. He wouldn’t need it, he told himself. Not really. But. If a warg was on the prowl then he might be able to swing it hard enough to buy just enough time for Frodo to run to Hamfast and alert the home guard. He approached the door and opened it, heartened by the lack of warg-scent. But then his heart gave out. His blood turned to ice in his veins and his eye widened. There was warg on his doorstep.   
In the form of a mantle, lining the collar of a sapphire coat, over a familiar set of armor. Below are heavy dark boots, adorned with metal. Above is a long tangle of black and silver hair with the occasional braid. He can’t see the face, but he had every facet and line memorized down to the scar on his nose. Bilbo managed to register three other forms on the step, but the light from his hall did not reach to their faces and could only see their boots, whereas the first dwarf, for that he was, was illuminated entirely. Instinctively Bilbo reached out and tangled his fingers in Frodo’s hair, holding his nephew close. One of the shadowed dwarves cleared their throat and the first turned. His eyes found Frodo, who had one hand balling Bilbo’s pants. The dwarf smiled slightly, eyes soft as he began to speak.   
“Apologies, young hobbit, but I was wondering if you could give us directions...to...” and here he trailed off for his eyes had wandered up the hand tangled in ebony curls, along the arm, the shoulders and finally taken in the face of the hobbit at the door. The face went slack, sapphire eyes widening and mouth falling open slightly, but the expression slowly melted into one of sweet bliss, a warm smile blooming across the scruff face, the dark beard shifting on an all too familiar face. “Hello Bilbo,” Thorin Oakenshield said. And Bilbo slammed the front door in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so nervouse, brooo


	3. Okay, now THAT was unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends have come to call but the mind of a hobbit is not so easily swayed

Bilbo pressed his back against his green front door, panting, eyes wild and locked it, sliding down it to come to a rest on the floor. He shook, face frozen as silent tears poured down his face. Was he going mad? He had to be. He noticed distantly that Frodo was tugging on his sleeve.   
“Uncle, uncle, why are you crying? Uncle who are the men outside?” he said, young voice laced with worry.   
“Y-you saw them?” Bilbo gulped, not daring to believe.   
“Yes...” Frodo said in worry and Bilbo let out a sob, covering his mouth and shaking with tears. “Uncle, Uncle Bilbo, please stop crying, Uncle?”  
“Frodo lad,” Bilbo gasped out extending his arms and Frodo crawled into Bilbo’s lap, hugging his sobbing uncle, head tucked under his chin in concern. After a moment Bilbo took in a deep shuddering breath and stopped crying. “Frodo can you do something for me?”  
“Anything,” was the immediate reply.   
“Go to your room and stay there until I come for you, alright?” Bilbo said. Frodo frowned but nodded. “Frodo,” Bilbo said gravely. “Lock your door.” Frodo, young as he was, knew the weight of these words. Locked doors were for when bad things happened. Locked doors meant monsters and orcs and the worst of evils. Locked doors at Bag End, was a bad sign. Frodo took off for his room and Bilbo stood, breathing heavily and wiped at his face, drying his tears, determined to understand. He gripped the handle. Maybe they were wraiths from the Burrows, or ghosts or other evil things. Because it simply couldn’t, it just couldn’t, be Thorin. But he would need to figure it out away from Frodo. Young impressionable Frodo.   
He opened the door stepped outside and closed it swiftly, his back to the four on his step. His instincts screamed for him to never turn his back on an enemy, but by the Valar, he couldn’t bear to look. But he had to. He turned and stared. It was dim but as Bilbo’s eyes adjusted he could see the carefully schooled look on ‘Thorin’s’ face. (Because, Bilbo reminded himself, he couldn’t be Thorin) It was a blank expression and slightly expectant. A throat being cleared drew Bilbo’s attention. Dwalin? He survived then...good. Or was he fake too?  
“Bilbo, you sort of ran off on us,” he said pointedly and Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t ever hear the good news,” Bilbo’s eyes could have lit the whole of the Shire on fire. Dwalin started to sweat. “Look here,” he said quickly and shoved the two others forward.  
“Fili.”   
“And KIli.”  
“At yer service,” and they bowed as one. Bilbo stared, eyes wide, mouth clamped shut.   
“We missed you Mister Boggins,” Kili grinned but the look slipped away when Bilbo’s expression stayed cold. “Bilbo?”  
“I know you must be upset,” Thorin suddenly cut in and Bilbo’s eyes snapped to him. “Everyone thought me dead, I thought myself dead until I woke up a week later, weak, broken but alive. I owe my life to Thranduil of all people,” he seemed awkward, which only proved he couldn’t, simply couldn’t be Thorin. “Baggins, please...” he was pleading. Yes this wasn’t Thorin, but some shade or ghoul. Thorin’s eye drifted up. “It’s a marvelous tree. It grew quickly, I think,” he said and Bilbo’s heart clenched and he sucked in a deep breathe through his nose. Not-Thorin looked at him as Not-Fili and Not-Kili muttered softly beside Maybe-Dwalin. “You left...why?” Bilbo let loose a slightly maniacal laugh.   
“You thought I would stay? Stay there in the ruins of-of a watch tower surrounded by dead bodies and-and all the awful painful, perfect memories and just stay and watch you and Fili and K-Kili be p-put in the ground cold as st-st-stone?” Bilbo said, shaking now and trying not to burst into outright tears. Dwalin looked panicked and had no clue what to do. Fili looked stunned and Kili had his eyes on his shoes. Thorin’s face was frozen in the brooding neutral Bilbo knew. “Y-you honestly think I w-would stick around to watch my f-f-f-” BIlbo covered his eyes with one hand, shaking and choking. “V-Vala you were always such an clot,” he sobbed, that mad laugh falling from his lips again.   
“Yes I ran. Ran from-from it all and-and I couldn’t I-I-I-” Bilbo shook and ran the hand down his face taking in a shuddering breath and glaring at the form of Thorin, because Thorin, he had to be dead he had to be...“You can’t...you can’t be him...because he was...he was so...so...” Bilbo didn’t have words for it. “Thorin was my king,” he managed and Not-Thorin’s face took on a pained yet touched expression and his mouth parted to speak but Bilbo held up a hand.   
“Listen, and listen well. I don’t know who or what you are, be you wraith or ghoul or foul beast from Mordor itself, but my name is Bilbo Baggins, Thief in the Dark, Barrel Rider, Burglar and the Fourteenth Member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. I have killed and will kill again lest you leave now and never, ever come back. because whatever you are, you are playing with a very, very dangerous matter and I will not stand for it. So this is your one chance. Run.” He spat, eyes burning and voice firm, even as he shook, using the door for support. Not-Thorin looked at the Not-Boys and Probably-Not-Dwalin and then back at Bilbo, pain in his eyes.   
“I know you must think this madness,” he said gently stepping towards Bilbo, hands extended in a passive way. “I did not imagine for a moment when we started this quest that you would believe us at once. But please, Bilbo, my friend, please.” His eyes were soft and pleading and Bilbo held onto the sob in his throat, because he couldn’t, he couldn’t! It wasn’t...he...no... “Will you trust me? One last...time?” he said in a soft voice and the sob in Bilbo's throat broke loose.   
He flung himself into Thorin’s arms which wrapped around him at once and Bilbo cried into his chest, shaking and quaking and not caring that this probably wasn’t Thorin, because he didn’t care if he could have Thorin back for even a moment. Bottled up, locked away, repressed emotions from years of tucked away pain came pouring out onto the warg fur coat and Bilbo held on for dear life. But when you unleash emotion, all of it, and really all of it, comes pouring out. Without thinking, Bilbo pulled back, cupping Thorin’s face in his hands and kissed him. Thorin tensed against Bilbo’s body and after a half a moment, Bilbo leapt back, hand over his mouth eyes wide.   
No one moved as Thorin blinked in shock, mouth agape and eyes the size of dinner plates. Then Kili lets out this really weak snort and then Fili covers his mouth and is shaking and Dwalin just shakes his head an Bilbo pressed himself back against Bag End, trying to understand why the hell he just kissed Thorin, who he still wasn’t sure was Thorin, and why he had thought that even for a second it was a good idea. Thorin looked about as shocked as Bilbo.   
“So, Bilbo,” Kili said grinning and slinging one arm over his shoulder in a warm familiar way. “Can we come in now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys what do you think?


	4. Once Upon a Time and One More Tme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin begins to understand just how string of an impact he had on Bilbo, Fili convinces bilbo, Bilbo is an empath and Dwalin is done with everyone's bullshit

The air in the sitting room was too awkward for words. Thorin stared with an almost painful intensity at Bilbo who examined the chip on his teacup with a quiet sincerity while the Boys snorted softly into their cups and Dwalin just sat beside Thorin all grim and-quite frankly tired of their crap. Thorin opened his mouth to speak when Bilbo stood and left. Thorin put his face in his hands and groaned softly as the boys cackled and Dwalin shook his head.  
“Have I gone mad? Has he gone mad? Is Mahal punishing me for waiting so long?” he demanded of Dwalin who shrugged.  
“That son of his might have a thing or two to say about you once his mum and he find out about you,” Dwalin said, meaning Frodo. Thorin groaned and covered his face.  
“I never should have come. I should have sent Balin like you said and stayed away from Bilbo. Why am I such a fool?”  
“Because you were a love sick pup,” Dwalin grumbled and Kili fell of the sofa in laughter.  
“What?” snapped Thorin.  
“Face it Thorin, you’re as much in love with him as he is you,” Dwalin said dryly and Fili started snickering.  
“I am not in love,” said Thorin in a disgusted voice. Fili honked in laughter and derision. “Shut up the lot of you,” snapped Thorin, red in the face, mostly from anger, partially from embarrassment. A door opened, there were voices and Bilbo re appeared with the small hobbit with black hair. Silence fell and Thorin stood nervously, his armor reflecting the fire, his warg coat in the hall. Frodo looked at him and cocked his head to the side before glancing at Dwalin and examining him as well. Then he looked at Fili and then Kili judging them each in turn. Bilbo didn’t say a word, but watched the lad carefully. The lad let go of Bilbo’s hand and walked up to Thorin. He gripped the edge of his tunic and tugged. Thorin glanced at Bilbo who gave no reaction, and knelt down to the boy’s level. The lad looked carefully at his face and reached out one hesitant hand. He touched Thorin’s brow and withdrew the hand, a smile growing.  
“I like him. Can we keep him?” he said turning to Bilbo. A smile flickered over the burglar’s face and he crossed his arms.  
“That remains to be seen.”  
“I’m Frodo,” said the lad turning to face Thorin. “I like adventures and blue berries and stories and honey cakes. I don’t like water or leeks or cabbage and I really, really don’t like fire,” he said voice burning. “Do you tell good stories?” he demanded and Thorin blinked.  
“I suppose I do,” he said in confusion.  
“I’m tired. Come tuck me in,” Frodo said and grabbed Thorin’s large hand, tugging him along, Thorin stumbled to his feet following the halfling babe down the halls of Bag End sending a distressed look at Dwalin. The Boys were snorting again, faces covered with hands and Dwalin was watching in a judgmental way. Frodo pushed open a door and released Thorin’s hand. Thorin stared in wonder at the room. The walls were painted in a sweeping vista, showing the misty mountains and the plains of Breeland until the window which showed the shire outside.  
It continued on the other side showing a grand house Thorin recognized as Beorn’s and what was undoubtedly Mirkwood and the long lake. Thorin closed the door and stared at the intricate detailing of the lonely mountain and the Front Gates on the back of the door. He glanced at Frodo. The lad was pulling a night shirt on over his pudgy belly with a serious yet cheery look. Toys littered the floor, some of which Thorin recognized. A toy wooden replica of Sting, three carvings of beasts that might have been trolls, hand sewn dolls like eagles and some discarded items of clothing in shimmering materials.  
“You play often then,” Thorin said, gathering up the toys and depositing them in the box by Beorn’s house.  
“Yes. Whenever I can. Sam plays with me. I let him be the Burglar,” Frodo said crawling into bed. Thorins topped, a doll of a elf in one hand and the wooden sword in the other.  
“Burglar?”  
“Yes,” Frodo said snuggling under the covers. “The Burglar is my second favorite from my bed time stories.”  
“And I take it Bilbo tells you these tales,” Thorin said shutting the lid and gathering up the abandoned clothing. Frodo nodded. “Who’s your favorite?” Thorin inquired.  
“Depends.”  
“On?” Thorin prompted.  
“If I’m playing or listening. In the stories I like the Toy Maker best. He’s really nice right from the start and is always taking care of the Burglar. He’s really nice.” Frodo said sagely as Thorin sat on the edge of the bed. Frodo was clutching a small doll but Thorin wasn’t concerned with that. “But when I’m playing I like the King,” Thorin stilled.  
“What’s the King like?” He found himself asking.  
“He’s the bravest and wisest and kindest in the whole world,” Frodo said eye wide. “He is a mighty warrior and a true friend, from beginning to end. He saved everyone from the dragon and the elves and the orcs and the wargs and he protected the Prince and the Dreamer and he was really truly the very best,” he said and looked at the doll fondly, extending it to Thorin. He took it and stared at the remarkable likeness of himself in his hands. “You look like him,” Frodo pointed out and thorin nodded.  
“Aye...”  
“Story,” Frodo pressed and took back the doll, nestling into his covers.  
“What do you want to hear?” Thorin said uncomfortably.  
“Do you know any Dwarf stories? Tell me a Dwarf story,” Frodo said waiting expectantly. Thorin cleared his throat.  
“In the light of a forge a ring was crafted by the mightiest, by Mahal. He poured into it all his love and devotion, all the heart of his life and when it was done, it held the shape of a rose giving bloom to itself, crafted of a soft red gold and a single amber stone set inside the flower. This he wrapped in light and beauty and presented on his knees, to the love his life the Lady Yavanna. She took it and wore it, taking up his realm as his queen. Together they carved from stone the Dwarves and Yavvana breathed life into them, a gift to her husband. Even now they sit in light together, bound in marriage and love,” Thorin stopped at Frodo’s big eyes. “What?”  
“You are one of those silly people consumed by romance,” Frodo said at once. Thorin turned pink.  
“Let me tell you the tale of Azanulbizar,” Thorin rumbled like a thunder storm.  
Fili and Kili exchanged looks as Bibo stirred sugar into his tea slowly, as if at any moment it would explode in his hands.  
“So...Bilbo. Are you...happy, to see Uncle?” Kili teased.  
“He’s not Thorin and you’re not Kili,” Bilbo said calmly and sipped his tea.  
“If you’re so sure why did you kiss him?” smirked Fili. Bilbo paused in his stirring and then continued.  
“Fili, since I can call you nothing else...if someone were to kiss Thorin Oakenshield how would he react?” he asked Fili and Kili shared an uncomfortable look.  
“Probably poorly?”  
“Correct,” Bilbo nodded. “He’d push them away, and draw his weapon, keep them as far away as possible and growl something threatening at them. He wouldn’t stand there all shocked and surprised. That’s how I know. That’s how I tested him,” Bilbo didn’t sound triumphant. He sounded defeated.  
“But...But Bilbo it’s us,” Kili begged kneeling in front of the hobbit.  
“You cant be. Well...I suppose you might be. But I saw....” he choked and closed his eyes. “I saw Fili die, we all did. Saw Azog...and I was there when Thorin...passed. I can believe you and Dwalin are real but not Thorin and Fili. It’s just....impossible,” he said softly. Kili looked at Fili helplessly and then at Bilbo. Fili frowned and stood up, and started pulling of his armor. “What are you doing?” Bilbo said tensely. Fili tugged his tunic off over his head, exposing a muscular chest covered in coarse blonde hair. Bilbo averted his eyes.  
“Bilbo I want you to look at me,” Fili said firmly, all the control and command of a king. Bilbo looked up. A jagged scar was visible down his chest right where Azog’s blade had dug into him. But it wasn’t the only one. There were scars crisscrossing his chest and arms and one along his neck, usually hidden behind his fur collar. “Bilbo I’m a fighter, I know how to stop a bleeding wound long enough to wait for help. I was close to passing when the elves showed up. It’s thanks to them I’m alive.” He crossed the room and pulled Bilbo to his feet and took his hand, pressing it to his scar and Bilbo flinched.  
“Come on. You know it’s me,” Fili said and Bilbo shook as he looked at Fili, taking him in then he closed his eyes and took in a deep breathe. His hand relaxed against Fili’s abdomen and Fili felt something like fear and something like loss and something like joy that didn’t belong to him. Bilbo flinched back, hand over his stomach and blinked rapidly, then let loose a broken sound and tackled Fili in a hug. Fili hugged him back as Kili cried for joy and piled into the hug. Bilbo broke apart gasping for air eyes wet again.  
“Oh Yavanna, sweet heavens, you’re alive, I can’t believe. I...oh boys,” he said and the two hugged him again, after Fili had tugged back on his tunic. Dwalin nodded in approval and stood.  
“I’ll check on him,” Dwalin said and wandered down the hall. He peered into the nursery and raised an eyebrow.  
“We charged the Goblin ranks, swords and axes and hammers aloft!” Thorin said, a toy sword in hand along with what almost looked like his old shield. Frodo was perched on the bed eyes wide as Thorin swung the sword over the ground. “We charged in, slashing and hacking as we went and forced them back into Moria! We lost the kingdom but won the battle!” Frodo cheered. Thorin lowered his sword. “But you mustn't forget, the many that died should not go forgotten.” Frodo stilled and cocked his head to the side. “We mourned them, them and their sacrifice that had no reward.” Frodo nodded seriously.  
“A warrior must never revel in death,” he said solemnly and Thorin tensed in surprise. “Tell me about Azog again,” Frodo said and nestled into his covers, hugging an ugly doll.  
“You have to sleep. I’ll...tell you another time,” Thorin said tucking away the toys. Frodo whined but rolled over and closed his eyes. Thorin turned and tensed when he saw Dwalin in the doorway.  
“Bit of a grim bedtime story,” Dwalin said and Thorin glared.  
“Better than some,” he snapped walking past him.  
“Like what?” Dwalin asked closing the door.  
“I don’t know....girls chopping off toes to get married?” Thorin offered. Dwalin stared. “Or queens poisoning their daughters?” Dwalin shook his head.  
“Yer daft.”  
“Shut up,” snapped Thorin as they entered the sitting room. Thorin stopped when he saw Kili playing happily with Bilbo’s hair as the hobbit talked animatedly with Fili who was letting him braid some of his hair, the two on the floor as Kili sat on the couch behind Bilbo. Thorin tensed and something in his chest howled at seeing Bilbo braiding Fili’s hair. That was intimate, he shouldn’t be doing that, but he let that go. Bilbo was as good as family and had a right to braid Fili’s hair if Fili wanted him to. Thorin cleared his throat and Bilbo looked up and his smile faded. He stood up and dusted his pants, looking unsure.  
“Um...rooms, I have rooms for you. You can...this way,” he mumbled and pushed past Thorin without another word. Fili grabbed his pile of armor (why by Mahal’s hammer had he taken it off?) and followed with Kili on his tail. “I suppose you boys will want a joined room? Or share?”  
“Yes.” Kili said at once. Fili mumbled something about clingy brothers but didn’t protest. Bilbo pointed them into a room with two large beds and pointed at another one with only a single bed across the hall.  
“Here,” he said and hugged himself as if cold. “And there’s another one here,” he gestured and Thorin opened it to show a room decorated in cool blues and white. He glanced at Bilbo who wouldn’t make eye contact. “Night all,” he mumbled and slipped into his own room. The dwarves shared some looks and Dwalin put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder.  
“Talk to him. Make him understand,” he said and closed his door before Thorin could snap back.  
“Bang him,” Kili said and whipped his door shut and locked it, laughter spilling from his and Fili’s room. Thorin glared at both doors then steeled a look at Bilbo’s door. He reached out a hand hesitated and knocked.  
“A moment,” Bilbo said, his voice muffled and weak. He opened it and stared at Thorin. Bilbo had already changed into a nightshirt and a house coat, the same house coat he had first worn all those years ago. He stared at Thorin, face taut. “Yes?” he said nervously.  
“Can we talk?” Thorin asked seriously and Bilbo shifted. Then let out a breathe of air.  
“Yes, yes of course, I’m being silly, come in,” he said and waved a hand. He had a lantern on the nightstand lit and he carefully added flame to another one, filling the room with more light. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” Bilbo asked gently. Thorin watched him then looked around.  
“You seemed to have made your peace with Fili and Kili,” Thorin pointed out.  
“Yes. I...they’re very convincing,” Bilbo said a bit ruefully, still awkward. Thorin nodded.  
“How can I convince I am real?” Thorin asked softly. BIlbo sighed and ruffled his curls nervously. “Bilbo look at me,” Thorin said stepping towards him. “I am the dwarf I always have been and always will be. I am Thorin,” the king said in pain. Bilbo gave him a look hedging on hateful.  
“The same dwarf who nearly flung me from Erebor’s battlements?” he asked softly and Thorin stopped dead in his tracks. Ah...he bowed his head and clenched his fists. Of course.  
“I was...Bilbo I was a fool, an idiot and ill, I-”  
“I know,” Bilbo said softly and Thorin chanced a look at him. The hatred had gone from Bilbo's face replaced by tired understanding. “I know, Thorin believe me I do. I felt the sickness myself while in there, it’s a strong thing, but...Everything happened so fast and we just...” he stopped and blinked in shock at his word choice. We? No no no. “I was so confused by everything that was happening and then...for Eru’s sake, Thorin you were dead. Dead in-in my arms and I-I-” Bilbo covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. Thorin stepped closer and pulled him into a hug. Bilbo shook and then stilled, breathing heavily. Thorin pulled back and looked down at him. Bilbo looked tired, like a ghost had taken over his body.  
“Will give me just once chance?” Thorin asked softly and Bilbo looked up at him with pain filled eyes. And something else.  
“Of course. Of course. For you Thorin there is always one more chance,” he said gently and ran a hand down his face. “But I am rather tired.”  
“Yes yes.” Thorin said backing up and making for the door. “Tomorrow then.”  
“Close the door please?” Bilbo said.  
“Yes yes. Right. Good...um goodnight” and Thorin closed the door a little harder than he meant too, shaking and sweating. Well then. He cleared his throat, dusted his hands of the whole affair and went into his borrowed room. Bilbo flopped onto his bed the moment Thorin face planted into his own and the two sighed as once.  
“Fuck., Thorin snarled into his pillow.  
“Oh fuck me,” Bilbo sighed, letting his eyes drift shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so personal headcannon!   
> I always felt that Hobbits are very in tune with the people around them, like how Sam kind of took on an edge on the quest to Mordor and the way Merry and Pip turned into warriors, so I think hobbit are empaths, so they can feel what other people feel and are a little bit telepathic, but it requires concentration and a strong connection and physical contact.


	5. First Breakfasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes up to happy Company, but all is not well it would seem.

Bilbo blinked up at his ceiling. He frowned and ran a hand down his face. His dreams were always like this. He was either reliving the battle or holding Thorin’s dead head in his lap or it was some mad fantasy where they all lived, and Thorin was king. But this...this was the first dream where Bilbo had kissed Thorin. Which was mad. Because honest, Bilbo wasn’t in love with Thorin. He wasn’t and never had been. It was funny, he thought as he stood and dressed wearily. He had fought his own dreams and he didn’t usually. He walked into the dining room where Frodo sat with a plate of round cakes and heavy honey drizzled over the top.   
“Morning, Frodo my lad,” Bilbo said pressing a kiss to the lad’s curls. “Sleep well?”  
“Yes,” Frodo said around a sticky mouth.   
“Care for some milk?” Bilbo said with a smile. Frodo nodded. Bilbo fetched a cup and peered at the pile of dishes. “Quite a job you did cleaning up!” he teased placing the glass before his nephew. Frodo waved a hand as he drank. “I’m going out for a pipe. Wash up and you can go play,” he said and opened the door, and settled on the bench, sucking in the morning air. Yes just a dream. He lit his pipe and took in a deep puff looking out over the fields of the Shire. Bilbo sighed, smoke billowing around him without shape and then sent a delicate smoke ring out over his garden, now filled with little vegetables that Frodo and Samwise grew with young determination. He nodded to Hamfast on his way to market and again to Farmer Thatcher with his tubers, every year around this time, Bilbo recalled in pain. He looked down the lane and spotted a couple walking along, talking animatedly.   
Probably some of his Took or Brandybuck cousins coming to visit. He beamed and rose up raising a hand in greeting. One gave a shout and bounced waving at him. Bilbo frowned, doubt niggling at his mind. When had his cousins gotten so tall? There hair was awfully long as well, and he didn’t think any of them had-  
no  
No  
NO  
Hobbits can’t grow beards.   
Or braided mustaches.  
Bilbo dropped his pipe, which cracked on the stone of his garden but he paid no mind as he stumbled down his front steps and opened the gate, running halfway down the lane to meet the Boys who were waving in hello. Bilbo crushed Kili in a hug and then Fili as well. Bilbo was quite out of breathe and altogether too happy to see them.   
“Good morning Bilbo,” Fili laughed, as they walked back up the lane arm in arm.   
“We went down to the get some fruit for Frodo because you're out of blueberries and he wanted some for his flat cakes, so we went, but they didn’t have any,” Kili said. They went on talking to him about exactly what wasn’t at the market as Bilbo took them in. It had been a good five years and Fili’s beard had grown, letting him braid it in a long tail down the front. His mustache was much longer too. Kili’s beard had finally sprouted properly and he had three braids, no longer than a few inches each, tied off with a silver bead, where Fili’s was merely tied off with some thread, as if hastily done. They both looked older, but still as playful as they always had been.   
“And then Dwalin said he would slaughter us if we disturbed him befor twelve, he never was a morning dwarf-”  
“And of course Uncle wanted to talk to you so we scampered off and-Bilbo?” Kili stopped mid sentence as turned. Bilbo had frozen several paces back, frozen.   
“Th-thorin,” he babbled.   
“Well, yeah...we don’t have any other uncles...” Fili said in concern. “Bilbo are you-” but Bilbo dashed past, all the way back up the lane and vaulted the closed gate and charged past Frodo playing in the garden and inside, the door swinging open. He froze, breathing heavily. Thorin was at the end of the hall in a plain blue tunic and trousers, fastening his belt. His hair was damp, but braided so he must have just finished his bath. But was it? It was. Thorin’s hair was noticeably shorter than it once had been, now barely coming to his shoulders. His beard was short as well, as if he had kept it carefully close to his jaw for years. He glanced up when he realized the door was open and blinked.   
“Bilbo, I wanted to-” but the wind was knocked out of him as Bilbo hugged him tightly, ridiculously tightly, and he placed his arms gingerly around Bilbo as well. After a moment Bilbo pulled back, wonder on his face and a smile growing. Thorin gave him a searching look, a smile quirking his lips. “You're not going to kiss me again are you?” he asked and Bilbo started to burn.   
“Oh hush! I thought you were dead,” he said shoving Thorin gently. “Tell me if-if Kili had come back from the dead after years and years and years you wouldn’t give him a right kiss too.” Bilbo said haughtily, but smiling all the same. It was quite a sight until Bilbo spared Thorin a glance. Thorin looked pained and Bilbo registered what he had said. “Oh, Thorin no, don’t-let’s just move past last night, alright? Now you never properly explained how exactly you’re alive and whatever took you so long.” He led the way into the kitchen as the Boys jogged in, closing the door behind them with curious looks.  
“Ah, well. Like I said it was Thranduil,” Thorin said sitting down at the kitchen table as Bilbo started cleaning breakfast. “No one really knows how but one day I just woke up and realized I was alive. I wanted to thank him, but the tree shagging-”  
“Shh,” Bilbo hissed, a scandalized look on his. He glanced at the open window leading out into the garden and Thorin cleared his throat.   
“He wouldn’t even shake my hand,” he finished dryly and glanced at the Boys who were watching expectantly. “As to what took so long. Health. For a while. And then it was a matter of fixing broken bonds with Bard. And making sure Erebor was stable enough that I might travel. Balin is watching over things for the moment, and eh-my sister Dis is Queen regent for the time being.”  
“Sister?” Bilbo said pausing in his washing.   
“Our mum,” Kili said as if speaking to a child. Bilbo glared.   
“Go on then,” he waved one soapy hand and Thorin cleared his throat.   
“She came from the Blue Mountains as soon as word reached her the dragon was dead. I should have come sooner, but with everything that happened, we were losing confidence. Running off and starting a war? Almost killing of the royal family? There was some unrest in the people. There were...attempts. After the Boys lives.” West farthing crockery dropped to the ground and shattered, spraying soap and water everywhere. Bilbo didn’t move, hands frozen, eyes wide as water soaked around his feet.   
“A-attempts. As in...assassination attempts?” he said softly.   
“Aye,” Thorin nodded gravely and the look of shock changed to horror, then pain, then pure rage. Then it was gone, replaced by a cold mask Thorin didn’t know.   
“Ah. I see,” Bilbo whispered looking out the window. He looked distant, his eyes somewhere else. What was he thinking about?   
“We should have come sooner,” Kili said softly and Bilbo looked at him. “Before...That boy Frodo. He’s...a good lad,” he said stiffly and Bilbo nodded.   
“He is. It’s incredible how quickly he’s recovered. What with losing his mother last year.” Bilbo frowned and bit his lip. “Primula was the sweetest Brandybuck in the Shire. Quiet and sweet. Any Baggins would be lucky to have her,” he sighed and looked into his sink.   
“How...how did she pass,” Fili asked softly.   
“Oh, um. Drogo and she went out in a boat, the fools and...and it...well hobbits aren't very good swimmers,” Bilbo mumbled and tears sprung to his face. “Still. At least they were together in the end,” he said softly and wiped at his eyes.   
“So you were left to raise Frodo alone,” Thorin mumbled and Bilbo sniffed a bit.   
“Well I wasn’t about to let him get carted off to Brandywine, was I? The Brandybucks are good folk, my family now, but well. He needed someone more respectable than them as a role model.”  
“So you are respectable then?” Kili snickered and Bilbo flung some soap suds at him before drying his hands on a towel.   
“Don’t be preposterous. I’m just the best candidate. After all his parents-”  
“I understand,” Thorin said before he could finish. Bilbo smiled warmly at him and Thorin felt himself get hot behind his neck. Ah...  
“Mornin’,” Dwalin said gruffly and slumped into a chair. “Is there naw any food?” he said and Bilbo rolled his eyes.  
“Why am I not surprised?” Bilbo asked Kili in passing and the ad smiled. The four dwarves sat at the table as Kili and Fili told Dwalin and Thorin exactly what a barter system was, how odd the market here was and how appalled they were by the jewelry quality.   
“Even a child could do better!” complained Fili at the better end of an hour.   
“Remember that odd little necklace made mum when I turned fifty?” Kili said to his Uncle who nodded, half asleep again. “Yeah, so that’s better than what they procure. And the ladies were fawning over it like it was some big deal! The fastenings were uneven, for Durin’s sake!” And it went on. By the time conversation had gone from poor craftsmanship, to good food, Thorin was alseep at he table, jaw rested in his hand perched on his elbow and snoring gently as Dwalin sat, arms crossed, eyes half lidded as Fili and Kili argued about buns and rolls.  
“Honestly you two,” Bilbo’s voice cut through the spell and Dwalin blinked awake and Kicked Thorin under the table. He grunted and opened his eyes slowly. “You practically put them to sleep.   
“I was listening with my eyes closed to better envision of what they spoke,” Thorin said dryly, an age old excuse that still fooled his nephews.  
“I’m sure,” Bilbo said just as dryly and set a stack of flat cakes with fresh honey, syrup and sugar on the table, quickly followed by sausages, eggs and potatoes. “Go on, eat then,” he said and sat in the empty seat between Thorin and Kili. The Dwarves dug in heartily, all signs of drowsiness gone and for a while there was just the sounds of noisy eating, without a word, until there was only one sausage left and Kili turned to bilbo and swallowed whatever he had stuffed n his mouth last.   
“Your cooking is a blessing from the Valar,” He said a tad breathlessly and Bilbo hummed and nodded, not having touched a morsel. He stood up and began gathering the dishes.   
“It’s a blessing from my mother. She’s the one who taught me to cook,” he said idly as Dwalin burped loudly and Fili laughed. Kili nodded and turned to his uncle to talk, when he realized Thorin’s eyes were elsewhere. Thorin was watching Bilbo move about the kitchen cleaning up with a soft expression on his face and Kili blushed furiously. It seemed indecent to look at something so intimate. There was a crash and a scream outside and then loud crying and hurried footsteps. The dwarves tensed but Bilbo only sighed and lowered his dishtowel.   
“Not again, please, not again,” he muttered walking quickly to the front door. It opened, the crying increased in volume, and the door closed, muting it once more. Thorn glanced at Dwalin who shrugged as FIli and Kili shared nervous looks. Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun! Haha cliff hanger, sorry I had too. Luv you guys, thanks for the support you're wonderful!


	6. Music and Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Frodo aren't as blissful as they would like and Thorin trips over his tongue

Bilbo closed the front door and sighed as he spotted his nephew. Bilbo sat in the mud outside the fence sobbing loudly. He was covered in the stuff and his eyes were screwed up as tears rolled down his face, leaving tracks in the mud on his face. Bilbo took a minute and gathered himself. It was always very complicated sorting out how best to treat a given situation. Reprimanding Frodo for standing up for himself would only hurt the boy, but if he encouraged him to pick fights, it could end just as badly. he started down the steps, making some noise as he went and by the time he reached the gate and peered down at Frodo, the boy had collected himself and was sniffling unhappily in the mud.  
“Mind if I join you?” Bilbo asked gently and Frodo shook his head. Bilbo opened the gate and sat on the smooth stone beside the boy and waited.   
“They st-started it,” Frodo mumbled. Bilbo waited. “They said that y-you were crazy for running of-ff and my p-parents were c-crazy f-for going b-b-boating and I w-would be c-crazy too-” and here the boy erupted into tears once more shaking and hunched over. Without a second thought, Bilbo gathered him up, never mind the mud on his best vest, and settled his chin on the lad’s curls.   
“There now, my boy, ignore it. Don’t bother. They’re the crazy ones. Not you or me or your parents,” Bilbo soothed as Frodo clutched onto him and sobbed. He held him and let Frodo sob until all that was left was eerie stillness and shaking. Then Bilbo started humming and then the song. Always the song.   
“The greatest adventure, is what lies ahead, today and tomorrow are yet to be said. The chances the changes are all yours to make. The mold of your life is in your hands to break,” he sang gently and Frodo sucked in a deep breathe and the two mad Baggins sat on the stoop, covered in mud, singing gently.   
“The greatest adventure is there if you’re bold, let go of the moment that life makes you hold. To measure the meaning can make you delay, it’s time you stop thinking, and wasting the day.” Silence followed and Frodo gave on great sniff and pulled away from his uncle slightly.   
“I got you dirty, Unc’,” he said sullenly.   
“Nonsense,” Bilbo said pompously, making Frodo giggle. “I was going to garden today anyway. Now, let’s get you cleaned up and see about second breakfasts,” he promised and took his nephew’s hand and led him back up the steps and inside. “off to wash, and I’ll make us some biscuits and gravy.”  
“Yippee!” Frodo cheered and skipped down the hall, flecks of mud bouncing onto the carpet. Bilbo smiled fondly after him and rubbed his forehead.   
“All’s well?” rumbled a soft voice and Bilbo jumped, heart erupting from his chest. He span and blinked. Thorin was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a concerned look on his face and arms folded over his chest. Bilbo blinked for a moment, remembering that Thorin was, in fact, alive, or at least Fili was.   
“Yes, Just the local bullies causing trouble,” Bilbo said airly to cover his start. Thorin raised an eyebrow. “It-it’s my fault. Actually. They tease him because of me. Mad old Mister baggins. And he stands up for me the only way he knows how. He doesn’t yet realize words can be just as strong as actions.” Bilbo stopped talking because Thorin was staring at him very hard, as if he’ll tell him whatever it is he wants to know. Only Bilbo doesn’t know what he wants to know. So he avoids that gaze as best he can.   
“Second breakfasts,” he muttered and stepped carefully around Thorin and into the kitchen, pulling out flour and milk and stirring a fire in his oven, a handy bit of machinery he had commissioned when he got back from the Adventure. he bussied himself in the kitchen as Thorin leaned on the doorframe and watched.   
“Oi,” Dwalin muttered and Thorin jerked slightly turning to him. “Fancy a bout?”  
“No, I’m fine. Best we don’t disturb the peace,” Thorin said just as softly.   
“Don’t stand there mooning all day. Either kiss him or leave him be,” Dwalin said and walked out the front door before Thorin could respond. Thorin stood steaming in the doorway.   
“What’s wrong?” said a soft voice and Thorin looked down at little Frodo. He was munching on a small fruit that was dripping juice down his arm and smelled annoyingly sweet.   
“Nothing. He’s just teasing,” thorin said and smiled. Frodo’s eyes got wide and he smiled back, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth. “Look you’re making a mess of yourself. What would your father say?” Thorin gently reprimanded grabbing a tea towel from the counter and wiping at Frodo’s arms. But Frodo’s smile was gone and his eyes were wide and wet. “No, come now, don’t be like that,” Thorin said, starting to panic. Fili had never been like this! Neither had Kili, but that wasn’t the point.   
“You...you think he’d be a-ashamed of me?” Frodo muttered lip trembling.   
“Not at all,” said Thorin at once and Frodo blinked and the trembling stopped slightly. “Only he wouldn’t want to see you dripping juice all over the floors and all. You know how he is,” Thorin winked but Frodo only whimpered and took off running, dropping the fruit on the floor. Thorin stayed where he was, confused and crouching on the floor.   
“What happened?” Bilbo asked adjusting an apron and picking up the fruit.   
“I don’t know. I only said he should take care with drippings on the carpet and he acted as though he was ashamed,” Thorin said softly, lost beyond compare. Bilbo only sighed and placed the fruit in a sealed metal can.   
“Well, looks like it’s a pie for second breakfasts day, rather than biscuits,” he said and pulled a round ceramic pan from his cabinets. “What exactly did you say?” he asked cutting up more of those odd fruits and mixing them with sugar.  
“He shouldn’t make such a mess of himself, because he had that juice dribbling down his arms and then that I thought you wouldn’t want him covered in the stuff and he asked if you would be ashamed and I said ‘No but ye da may not want you dropping things all over’.” The oven door slammed shut behind the pie and Thorin jumped. Bilbo leveled a fiery glare at the Dwarf.   
“His father? how did he get involved in this? And how dare you suppose to know how Drogo would react at Frodo being a little messy? He was a Baggins, but he was the rowdiest of all us cousins. And I told you it was hard for him after they drowned! And you just bring it up willy nilly! I don’t know how Dwarves are with the dead, but here in the civilized world, we don’t use it as leverage to reprimand our young!”  
“Leverage?” spat Thorin, angry at being yelled at. “Wouldn’t you be displeased if he made a mess?”  
“Once upon a time, maybe, yes, But I’m different i changed, YOU CHANGE ME!” Bilbo shouted and took a step back, slack jawed when his words caught up with him. Thorin’s neck was burning a blush and he did his best not to let it show.   
“I don’t know about his mum, or who Drogo is-”  
“Drogo is Frodo’s late father,” Bilbo said in a tired voice and undid his apron.   
“You’re-you’re not his father?” Thorin choked out and Bilbo laughed softly. It was an empty sound.   
“No, Thorin. I don’t have any family of my own. Cousin’s are one thing, but I’ve no wife nor any children. Frodo is my nephew and if you’ll excuse me I need to go console him.” He walked past Thorin, their arms brushing against one another and Bilbo went off to hug and sing to little Frodo as Thorin’s mind reeled. A walk. A walk is what he needed. Five minutes later Fili and Kili returned from market, laden with fruits and spices and more toys than they should have bought, laughing and exchanging jokes.  
“Oh,” Kili said and peeked into the kitchen. “Looks like Bilbo’s baking,” he said and opened the oven door. “Should we get this?”  
“Probably,” Fili said and set down the baskets they were laden with. “Wouldn’t want this morning to go sour would we?”


	7. Under the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Reflects and seeks out help from his ally and Dwalin is gone somewhere.

Frodo was under his bed, a testament to just how bad he felt, and Bilbo sat on the bed, rubbing his face and trying to think of something to draw out his nephew. He wasn’t very good at this whole parenting thing, if he was being perfectly honest, but he did his best and right now, he had no clue what to do. The last time Frodo had been under the bed was the day he came to Bilbo. The day of the burial.

The boy was dressed in black, scrubbed clean and quiet after the funeral. He sat in the foyer holding a small handkerchief made of silk. It was his father's. Bilbo was begging to the head of the Brandybucks to let him have the boy. The old man was refusing.   
“Please, Dain Winterton, you know I’ll take care of him!” Bilbo begged.   
“I’m sorry Bilbo. We’re his family now. I know you care about the boy, but really-”  
“I’m his cousin! Drogo and I were very close, I’m the boy’s best option. He’s grown up here, all of his memories, his adventures-”  
“Well that’s just the thing, Mister Baggins,” Winterton said awkwardly. “Your adventure. Some of us worry that you might run off again and...leave the boy.” Bilbo stared, then blinked then bowed his head.   
“Dain, I want you to understand...I know I’ve only been back for a few years, but I’m different. Very different. I don’t...I will never run off again, I assure you. As a matter of fact I never intend to leave the Shire for as long as I live.” he said softly. Winterton sighed and shook his head.   
“Alright, Baggins, the lad is yours. Do you even know what you’re doing?”  
“I‘ve watched kids for several years. I know how to take care of a child once he’s off his mother’s milk.” Bilbo assured the Dain then walked into his foyer as the Dain went to use the restroom. Bilbo squatted before Bilbo who looked up at him meekly. “Do you remember me, Frodo, my lad?” Bilbo asked   
“Yes, sir.” the boy said softly. Bilbo smiled warmly and felt something in his gut twist painfully when those wide blue eyes filled with tears. “I want my papa.” he said in a trembling voice. Bilbo’s throat constricted.   
“I know, and I‘m sorry. But you’re going to stay with me, now alright? I’ll be your Uncle Bilbo-”  
“I don’t want an Uncle! I want my mum and dad!” Frodo wailed and took off down the hall and slammed the door to a guest room. Bilbo clenched his jaw as the Dain came down the hall with his pipe in his teeth.   
“Good luck, lad.” he said and left with a nod. Bilbo tugged at his black vest and went after the boy. He paused at the door and listened. The boy was quiet. He eased it open and looked into the rather large guest room. Frodo was nowhere in sight. Then he saw it. The corner of little foot sticking out the end of the bed. Bilbo sat on the bed, deep in thought and listened to the soft sniffling. How did he draw out the boy? He looked out the window towards the blue skies that he knew held the Misty Mountains in the distance. Now there was a thought.   
“I remember the last time I left the Shire, you know. I went all the way past Bree out to Rivendell, in the house of a skin changer and into the halls of...a Dwarf kingdom.” he said and the sniffling slowed. “It all started with my friend Gandalf.”  
“Who?” Frodo said in a muffled voice.   
“Gandalf! Oh if you’ve heard only half of what I’ve heard, and I’ve heard only very little of what there is to know, you’d be prepared for all sorts of adventures. Everywhere he goes adventures seemed to crop up of the most outrageous kind. He dragged me off to fight a Dragon after-”  
“A DRAGON!?” The boy cried popping up, eyes wide, curls in disarray. “You fought a dragon?”  
“And won.” Bilbo said proudly. Frodo gaped in awe and listened, slowly creeping up the bed as Bilbo told him the beginnings of his adventures. Soon Bilbo had the lad in his lap, the two reclining on pillows, as Frodo listened, enthralled. Very soon it was dark outside and Frodo was breathing evenly, head resting on Bilbo’s chest. Bilbo kept talking about Rivendell and elves and the stubbornness of Dwarves until he drifted away in dreams of his own, dreams of a Prince long gone.

Though the prince was apparently alive, but that really wasn’t the point. Bilbo doubted his stories would draw out the boy again, since he had already told him much of what there was to know. Several dozen times. Now the boy was sobbing under the bed, curled up and upset and Bilbo had no clue what to do. He knew singing was not about to do anything on this occasion since if he couldn’t hold the boy he couldn’t calm him, and Frodo knew Bilbo couldn’t fit beneath the bed.   
“Frodo, lad, please come out,” he said plaintively but Frodo only continued to cry. Bilbo sighed and rubbed his brow. He really wasn’t good at this being an uncle thing. Then he sat bolt upright. Thorin. Thorin had been an uncle for a very long time maybe he could help! Only...Bilbo had just yelled at him. Rather rudely actually. What was he supposed to do? Bilbo decided to swallow his pride and stood abruptly to exit the room. He jogged out and ran through the house calling Thorin’s name over and over until he collided with a body.   
“Whoa, Bilbo!” Kili said in surprise as he steadied them both. “What’s wrong?”  
“I need to speak with your uncle, do you know where he is?”  
“I think I saw him down by that river, oh and we took the pie out of the oven, what’s wrong?”  
“Nothing Kili, my lad, I’ll be back, watch over Frodo!” He said and dashed out the door and down towards the Water. Fili and Kili shared a look and peered into the bedroom. Bilbo was running as fast as he could down to the water, feet flying over dirt and stones and skidded to a halt. Thorin sat on the bank, smoking a pipe and looking lost in thought. “Thorin!” Bilbo called jogging over. Thorin scrambled to his feet backing up slowly, almost to the water’s edge.   
“Ah, Master Baggins,” he said, sounding flustered. “I-”  
“I need your help,” Bilbo said at once. “It’s Frodo, he’s badly upset and I haven't the faintest thought of what to do. I thought considering you’re an Uncle you might be able to help.” Thorin gave him a searching look.   
“What is his issue?” he asked and Bilbo relaxed slightly.   
“He’s under the bed.” By the confused look on Thorin’s face he didn’t understand the gravity of this statement. “When Fili and Kili were younger, and they got upset, did they ever have a secret place. Where no one could get to them and bother them? A quiet safe place for them and only them?” he asked and Thorin nodded. “What do I do to get him back?” Bilbo said and Thorin shook his head, mouth parted in slight confusion, a sense of hopelessness between the two. “Thorin. I am begging you. Help me.” And Thorin’s shoulders straightened.


End file.
